


I'm Damaged Bad at Best

by Ithinkwehaveanemergency



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Feelings, Fluff, Future Fic, Getting Together, M/M, Minor Ethan/Danny Mahealani, Minor Liam Dunbar/Theo Raeken, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Past Ethan/Jackson Whittemore, Past Lydia Martin/Jackson Whittemore, Past Lydia Martin/Stiles Stilinski, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:08:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24886591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ithinkwehaveanemergency/pseuds/Ithinkwehaveanemergency
Summary: "Dude, I remember being twelve and sitting in my room playing Arctic Monkeys on repeat, wondering if you had the same weird feeling that I did when we would argue and wrestle.  God."  Stiles scoffs at the memory and takes a drag of his beer like an old man would."Well, needless to say…" Jackson shrugs and doesn't continue his sentence.  He stares out at the bay and enjoys the comfortable summer night."Nah, Jackson."  Stiles cuts into his relaxed state with choked up words and a racing heart.  "I'm gonna need you to say it."Or5 times someone visits Jackson's new place in San Francisco and inevitably brings up Stiles Stilinski, and the 1 time Stiles finally visits.And more importantly, keeps coming back.
Relationships: Stiles Stilinski/Jackson Whittemore
Comments: 10
Kudos: 327





	I'm Damaged Bad at Best

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is admittedly a bit of a mess. But I needed it. And so I wrote it.
> 
> Title from Elliot Smith's "Say Yes"

1.

Jackson isn't even fully moved into his Mission Bay apartment before his first visit from a member of the McCall pack happens.

Lydia knew about the move, of course. Only she, Stiles, Danny and Ethan were aware of it before it happened. She would've been livid if she'd had to find out from Danny, or  _ worse _ , Ethan. While Stiles is unsurprisingly tight-lipped about everything nowadays, the recently engaged duo weren't quite as smooth.

The New York couple's Save-the-Date was sent out a week ago. They sent the cards in spite of the supernatural drama they've all been suffering through the past couple months. Lydia would have called them immediately and one of those two would have let the news spill.

Jackson foolishly thought Lydia might wait til he'd had his first nights sleep in his new overpriced luxury San Franciscan apartment before stopping by.

"Lydia, eternal love of my life, please come in." Jackson drawls from the couch as his high school ex-girlfriend's kitten heels clack on the hardwood floor.

"You know, just because you have a doorman, doesn't mean you should leave your apartment door unlocked." Lydia admonishes as she sets her clutch on the counter and looks around the mostly bare apartment. "Also, you sound like Stiles. Yuck."

"You literally have  _ sex _ with the guy." Jackson arches a brow at her. "And yet he makes you say 'yuck?'"

"I haven't had sex with him in over a year, and during sex, he was  _ definitely _ not 'yuck.'" Lydia corrects him and then wags her eyebrows lasciviously.

" _ Yuck _ ." Jackson mimics, making a face, hoping it hides his interest in knowing specifically what Stiles is like in bed. "When did you stop banging Stilinski? I thought it was, and I quote, 'The Perfect No-Strings Relationship With a Man You Love.' You wrote me a literal essay about it when trying to justify sleeping with your ex to yourself."

"He…" Lydia sighs. She shakes her head and stops looking around in favor of joining him on the couch. "He dated someone seriously, at least for a little bit. Didn't work out, obviously, since his job is ridiculous. You of all people should know this. You've seen glimpses of him more than I have lately, you trouble maker. But nonetheless… he's looking for something that isn't just  _ friends who have sex _ ."

Jackson nods, recalling the scarce few times he's seen Stiles since that bloody reunion in Beacon Hills six years ago. Most of them have been  _ very _ short visits to London over the past year, always on more or less official business. The man ages noticeably every time Jackson sees him. It makes Jackson want to ask what the guy has seen, what he's been through.

But he knows enough about it to assume it's better left alone.

"Enough about  _ my _ ex. Let's talk about  _ yours _ ." Lydia's smile is so predatory that Jackson forgets for a moment she isn't one of  _ them _ . He reminds himself she's much more powerful than they could ever be before responding with too much snark.

"They said they're gonna  _ toss a coin _ for who got to ask me to be their best man." Jackson rolls his eyes.

"They are  _ not! _ " Lydia gasps and follows it up with loud, unabashed cackles that the Lydia he'd dated in high school would have never dared to let loose.

Jackson takes a split second to consider how good Stiles was for her, how good the man seems to be for most everyone around him, and then gets up to rifle through a grocery bag to break

out the wine.

2.

Liam is a welcome surprise.

They'd bonded over fond memories of being gifted at athletics  _ before _ being bitten and having their life turned into a CW show. Liam had moved to San Francisco for college a few years back, and he's got a few months left til he graduates. He's just stoked to have a friend so close by.

"This place is sick." Liam hisses, in his typically bro-voice, looking out the sliding door at the distant ocean view.

Jackson snorts and turns on the TV which he'd just mounted on the wall with the young werewolf's help.

"How is your internship at the museum going?" Jackson asks as he scrolls through Netflix. Jackson had used his dad's connections to get Liam a paid internship at the local SF Historical Society. He leans over and waggles his eyebrows at the handsome dirty blonde. "Is Gisele showing you a good time?"

"She asked me out." Liam groans and flops down on the other end of the couch. "I said I'd think about it."

Jackson turns to the 22 year old with a dropped jaw and wide eyes. Liam winces and flails an arm out to hit the older man.

"Shut  _ up _ . I'm just… I'm not ready." Liam whines, curling up around the throw pillow beside him. He faces Jackson with a frown. "I miss him."

Jackson sighs and settles on Umbrella Academy, knowing that Liam has already seen it as well, since they'd both binged it and live texted as they did so.

"He's just on an undercover mission for a while, he'll be back." Jackson curls up as well, mirroring Liam and giving him a sympathetic look. "And you never even dated, c'mon Liam. You told him you were straight and you didn't love him like that. And while we were all surprised, we all supported you. That was your choice.  _ Now _ , you're pining after him! This is unhealthily codependent."

"It's not like that anymore." Liam grumbles into the pillow. "After I called to check on how Theo was doing for the tenth time, Stiles said that it's possible I might not just be straight. He told me about this thing… demisexual? I dunno if it's… I'm not sure it fits me perfectly… but I know now that I do love him like that. Sort of. I  _ think _ . Man, I really do love him, though."

Jackson blinks at his young friend and reaches out to pat his calf.

"I'm always here for you if you wanna talk about this stuff. Just cause I'm gay doesn't mean I won't understand. I was confused once, too." Jackson offers with a smirk. "You don't have to go to fucking  _ Stilinski _ ."

Liam laughs and kicks out playfully.

"He's not that bad. He still takes my psycho calls even though he's probably busy with his own shit and has no idea what Agent McCall and Theo are doing on their op." Liam scolds. "Stiles is… I dunno. You like him too, don't front,  _ bro _ ."

Jackson doesn't acknowledge the accusation.

He also keeps hearing the words in his head for days afterwards.

3.

Argent is a bit of a blindsided attack.

He comes on behalf of Melissa McCall, bearing apartment essentials and a gigantic bag of wrapped tamales.

"So." Chris Argent glances around with discretion, like he's looking for all the exits. "No ones been giving you trouble since…"

Argent waves his hand and grabs a cookie from the plate Jackson set out in a half hearted effort to be a good host.

"Since shit went down at the Battersea apartment two months ago?" Jackson arches an amused brow at the memory of Argent and himself barely escaping Jackson's building before the explosion. "Since my ex-boyfriend got kidnapped and you and Isaac and the Serbian Mafia helped us evade an evil werewolf crime organization with a  _ literal _ underwater lair? Mmm… nope. I'm all good. Flying under the radar, no public profile with my picture, etc."

" _ Good _ . Good." Argent nods awkwardly. "The Serbian Mafia thing is complicated, alright. They're…  _ y'know… _ the whole 'enemy of my enemy' thing."

"Sure, Chris." Jackson smiles. "I'm not judging. You saved Ethan's life. And well, I might not be with him anymore, but he's still… I still care if he's okay. He's one of my best friends. And  _ apparently _ there's a 50% chance I'm going to be his best man at his wedding. So, I owe you."

"Yeah. Well, let's just hope that Stiles can get a wrangle on the U.S. side of things. He's been trying to make sure none of this comes back to you. They've got a grainy picture of Ethan, but that's it. Stiles seems sure he can clear it all up before they figure out you were at the embassy raid. I trust the kid. You should be fine." Argent grumbles through his mouthful of cookie. He swallows and shakes his head. "I don't know how he and Theo stomach working with Raf. I want to punch that guy in the face."

"You're marrying his ex." Jackson snorts, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow, grateful he doesn't need to start talking about Stiles again so soon after Liam's visit. "I think you win the dick measuring contest, man."

Argent narrows his eyebrows, unimpressed, then rolls his eyes and grabs another cookie.

"Damn right, I do." He mumbles around his next bite.

Jackson laughs and tries not to let his thoughts wander off too far into the fact that Stiles is out there somewhere, sometimes actively working on securing Jackson's safety.

4.

Derek Hale comes just as Jackson wonders if the man is avoiding seeing him altogether.

They hadn't talked much when Jackson was in town those six years before, and Derek had more or less disappeared into the smoke after everything, leaving the rest of the old high school classmates to talk and reconnect. Jackson has kept in touch with everyone, more or less, since then.

He's seen Derek in pictures and tagged on Instagram, and he knows the man is good.

But seeing in person is something else.

"Nice place, Whittemore." Derek muses when Jackson lets him in. "I knew you were rich, but  _ shit _ I don't think Peter could even afford this."

"Sure he could." Jackson scoffs. "That creeper would find a way. My parents' Rincon Hill apartment though? That would probably be out of his range. Their view is way better than this, you can kind of see their building from here. It blocks  _ my _ ocean view."

Derek snorts and turns to Jackson before pulling the man into a hug.

"Oh, we're hugging." Jackson speaks candidly, surprised at the affection. "Didn't know you were the touchy feely type."

Derek laughs lightly and pulls away.

"Just felt like it." He shrugs. "We've never hugged before. Seemed like it was about time."

"Sure." Jackson laughs back, slapping the ex-alpha on the deltoid. "I like hugs. Hug me whenever, big guy."

Derek shoves him in return and Jackson shows him out to the balcony.

"That's what Stiles calls me. Weird hearing  _ you _ say it." Derek muses as they look out on Mission Bay.

Jackson bites his lip and wonders why someone is always bringing up Stiles. It's not like Jackson's thoughts don't drift to the spastic FBI agent enough as is.

"Speaking of…" Jackson's gaze wanders over Derek's body. "You're not looking quite so big these days. I think Stiles might be buffer than you."

Derek laughs loudly this time, and they both grin at the mention of the once-lanky FBI agent.

"Stiles is pretty jacked these days." Derek shrugs. "He was working out with Theo whenever they were together during Theo's preparation. Maybe he's just keeping it up on his own because Theo got huge and he feels inferior. Either way, Stiles is constantly sending me questions about working out."

Jackson shakes his head and leans against the railing.

"And you? What's the excuse for being skinny."

Derek blushes and leans against the railing next to Jackson.

"I got a new hobby." Derek crosses his legs at the ankle. "No time to work out. I'm too busy baking. And eating mostly sweets all day apparently makes us werewolves skinny."

"Baking." Jackson stands up straight and glares at Derek. "You  _ bake _ and yet you've come here  _ empty handed?! _ "

Derek snorts and starts laughing hard before pulling Jackson into a headlock.

"Actually, I have homemade lady fingers and all the ingredients for my  _ famous _ tiramisu in my backpack and I figured we could make a night of it." Derek smiles down at his old unintentionally abandoned beta. "Lydia mentioned it's your favorite."

"I can't believe you've been holding out on me. Let's  _ go. _ " Jackson grins and socks Derek in the gut before leading the way inside again.

5.

Scott finally comes, three weeks after Jackson has returned to California.

The man is calm as always, and far less awkward than he had been when they'd first met as kids.

They hug longer than Jackson expected he'd want to, but being hugged by Scott McCall has a strange effect on a person, and possibly more so on a were-person.

"You settling in alright?" Scott beams at him as they sit on opposite sides of the long sofa.

"Yeah. Yeah." Jackson nods and takes a sip of his wine. Scott had turned it down with a confused frown, but once Jackson opened it and unleashed the aroma of special enhancing herbs, the alpha understood. "No, I'm fine. And I'm uh… I don't hate the job with my mom, honestly. Plus, I had my independent line started last year and it gives me a little distance from my parents. They're ridiculously great after everything, and it's nice to be close when I want to see them. I still can't believe that they uprooted themselves for a year just to make sure I was safe and okay."

"They're good people." Scott agrees and burrows into the soft pillows of the couch. "And for the record, I'm just as glad as they must be to have you close by again."

"I know- Uh, I mean… I realize we haven't talked about where I stand with-"

"Jackson." Scott cuts Jackson off with a kind smile. "You'll always have a place in my pack. Of  _ course _ , you will. That's never been a question. Come on. You thought Danny and Ethan were welcome in our pack and  _ you _ weren't? Don't be ridiculous."

Jackson swallows down the lump in his throat and forces a smile back so that he won't get weird and emotional about it.

"Anyway, Stiles basically already considers you part of the pack anyways, otherwise he wouldn't have sent Theo undercover to New York and then Vauxhall to help take down Dunaway's crew."

Jackson's heart rate skyrockets and he feels his limbs go a bit numb as Scott's words echo in his ears.

"Jackson?" Scott sits up straighter and scoots toward his old classmate. "Hey, Jackson, wha-  _ Oh shit _ . You didn't know. I was sure Stiles had told you, since… Well…  _ you know _ ."

"I don't know  _ shit _ . Stiles hasn't done more than send one word response texts since I got to California." Jackson wheezes out, his voice strangled in surprise. Scott frowns deeply, looking equally as confused at the statement. "That's what Theo's op is? He's doing this for  _ me? _ He doesn't even  _ know  _ me that well."

"But Stiles asked him." Scott whispers, face still scrunched up in conflict. "If it's important to Stiles, it's important to the pack."

"Why-"

"He cares, dude." Scott chuckles. "You know how Stiles is. No matter how far away he is, he's always watching out for all of us."

Jackson shakes his head and relaxes back into the couch.

"It's always worse with you, though." Scott adds with an amused snort. When Jackson looks at him, face blank, Scott swats his thigh gently. "Come  _ on,  _ you remember high school."

"No? I mean…  _ kind _ of." Jackson shrugs, and Scott rolls his eyes.

"Man. He was always so obsessed with you. It's like you were Draco Malfoy and he was Harry Potter."

"Not sure if that was a reptile joke, but if so,  _ rude _ . Also… Pretty sure  _ you _ were the hero of the story in high school." Jackson argues, putting aside the way his heartbeat trips in his chest at the idea of Stiles being obsessed with him.

"Yeah?" Scott giggles shyly and tilts his head in thought. "I always thought I was like… the Neville of the group."

"Nope." Jackson argues. "You didn't randomly get super hot out of nowhere. That's probably more Stiles' role."

A manic, knowing grin forms on Scott's face before Jackson can realize what he's said.

"Shut the fuck up, McCall." Jackson sneers in warning. "Not  _ a word _ ."

The alpha listens, thankfully, and they move on to discussing Ethan and Danny's upcoming wedding, and Scott's genuine surprise and glee at being invited to be the other best man after Ethan lost the coin-toss.

+1

Stiles Stilinski doesn't show up with a housewarming gift or even an annoying one liner.

No, of course, Stiles shows up with a battering ram.

In his defense, he wasn't the one running the raid. In fact, he showed up seconds too late and he apologized immediately for the door. Then, he proceeded to take charge, send everyone home and expedite the clearing of Jackson's name.

The thing that started all this mess was that Jackson and Ethan had accidentally gotten involved in some strange European network of supernatural criminals run by a man named Killian Dunaway.

It was before they broke up, and neither was to blame. They just found themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time. Stiles had been the one to step in and help. He and Rafael McCall spent a week with them in negotiations with a local legit pack and the US embassy for Jackson and Ethan's protection.

Once they were alone again, Ethan had suggested that maybe they'd be better off as friends. Jackson had felt nothing but relief at the breakup.

They thought they were in the clear, and Ethan left for the US, Jackson staying behind alone.

Shortly after Danny and Ethan had started dating again months later, they decided to visit Jackson in London. Ethan had been kidnapped immediately upon landing at Heathrow and they'd all been sucked back into the harrowing world of organized crime again.

Once again, members of the Beacon Hills pack pulled them out of the fire, though just barely, and they were still sort of on the run.

Stiles had been the one to suggest getting Jackson back to the states once Argent and Isaac saved Ethan, especially since Jackson's embassy-adjacent apartment had been blown up in the attack.

So, Stiles swooping in and saving the day just seconds before Jackson is shot with wolfsbane tranquilizers, seemed just about the least he could do after the mix up that resulted in Jackson's apartment being on the list of raid locations as they took down the US operations under Dunaway's command.

Once the FBI has vacated his apartment, Stiles calls someone to come fix the door, face frozen between a laugh and a wince as he does so.

Jackson thanks him with a grumpy frown before Stiles envelopes him in a bear hug and refuses to let go for a full minute, muttering how sorry he was that he didn't get there sooner.

They part ways in the early hours of the morning, after Stiles explains what's been going on with the international criminal investigation, Theo's mission, and why the FBI ended up busting down Jackson's door. Before he goes, he grabs Jackson by the shoulders and looks him in the eye with an expression that looks more relieved than anything else.

He says, "It's over Jackson. For good this time. You're safe."

And after that exhausting day, unlike everyone else, Stiles starts making his visits a habit.

He comes by every three days for the same amount of weeks, and on his sixth visit, they're sitting on the balcony chairs, drinking beers as usual, when Stiles finally says it, out of the blue.

"So, in case Lydia hasn't told you… I,  _ uh... _ Apparently, I'm into dudes?"

Jackson doesn't react at first, taking a sip of a beer and nodding. Then he sets his bottle down and looks at his guest solemnly.

"You think this pattern is gonna give Lydia a complex?"

Stiles snorts so hard he starts choking on beer, so Jackson counts it as a win.

"Smartass." Stiles wheezes when he's gotten his bearings. "I didn't go  _ full _ gay, so I'm sure she's fine. Still  _ very _ able to get it up for gorgeous bossy women. I just… apparently can get it up for bossy people of  _ all _ genders."

"Good to know." Jackson laughs, shaking his head at how much the grown man before him is just like the little kid he used to know.

"I kind of started to figure it out when we were kids, y'know." Stiles hums, picking at his work slacks. He'd come straight from a meeting of some sort, but he'd pocketed his tie an hour ago, before they cracked the beers. He'd rolled up the sleeves of his dark grey dress shirt as soon as the suit jacket had come off, and Jackson had been mesmerized by how much thicker and hairier and more vascular the humans forearms are than his own.

"I know plenty about repressing sexuality, Stilinski." Jackson arches a brow at his companion.

"No, I know, but it was less repressed, more… forgotten?" Stiles fidgets around in his seat until he finally just hunches over and leans his forearms on his knees, as if it's the only way he can keep still. "I had these feelings, back when we were young and still friends. Before you went to high school and stopped..."

Jackson nods, understanding the rest of the sentence.

He and Stiles had always been antagonistic friends, but  _ friends _ was always the key part of the phrase until Jackson became a freshman at BHHS.

"You trying to say that my issues as an idiot teenager ended up thwarting your homoerotic awakening?"

Stiles coughs to ineffectually cover a laugh.

"Sure. That's one way of looking at it." Stiles muses. "If we'd stayed friends while you stopped being all tweeny and gangly and finally got hot… I probably would've parsed it out sooner, yeah."

"Well, good." Jackson sighs dramatically. "Another thing to add to the list of ways I've fucked people over."

Stiles looks at him sideways and rolls his eyes when he sees a smirk instead of an expression of self-pity.

Stiles laughs softly and then keeps talking, and Jackson is content to listen. It's how these nights usually go. Stiles doing most of the talking, Jackson sniping and making jokes where he sees fit.

But despite a brief tangent, Stiles comes back to the topic, pointedly.

"Dude, I remember being twelve and sitting in my room playing Arctic Monkeys on repeat, wondering if you had the same weird feeling that I did when we would argue and wrestle.  _ God _ ." Stiles scoffs at the memory and takes a drag of his beer like an old man would.

"Well, needless to say…" Jackson shrugs and doesn't continue his sentence. He stares out at the bay and enjoys the comfortable summer night.

"Nah, Jackson." Stiles cuts into his relaxed state with choked up words and a racing heart. "I'm gonna need you to say it."

Jackson turns and furrows his perfectly manicured brow at the slightly younger, but now older-looking man.

"I did, Stiles." Jackson frowns. "I felt the same confusing shit you did. But you know what I'm like… I  _ sure as shit _ was worse back then. I'm sorry I was too busy trying to be the kind of kid, the kind of  _ son _ , that someone,  _ anyone _ , would actually want… to realize that you would've cared about me just the way I was. I'm sorry I didn't realize that should've been good enough."

Stiles just blinks at him, so Jackson nods and turns back to enjoy the view from his balcony, not expecting a response. He knows the young FBI agent is likely in shock at his easy apology, but Jackson has had to say the word a lot in the past few years.

Saying it to Stiles, of all people, has probably felt the best.

"I always wanted you to come back to me, you know?" Stiles whispers, breaking the silence. Jackson furrows his brow and tentatively glances over at the handsome man beside him. "Not when you left for London. Before that. And then after. I wanted you to open up to me again, as a friend. I was always willing to welcome your friendship back. I always hoped for it."

Jackson's jaw tightens and he looks down, embarrassed.

"Yeah, well…" Jackson sighs, uncomfortable with the serious conversation. He looks at his empty beer and Stiles'. He gathers them and stands, pausing before heading back inside to the kitchen. "Maybe I didn't think you should. After everything we'd been through. After the times you tried to help me and I essentially, possibly literally, spit in your face."

"We've all done that to each other, Jax." Stiles laughs, getting up and following along, leaning on the kitchen bar as Jackson rinses the bottles and puts them in a recycling bin. "We have literally _all_ been there. _Even_ _Scott_. So, I hope you realize now, that we all want you to stay close. _I_ want you to stay close."

Jackson freezes and looks up at Stiles, searching for meaning behind the words.

"How close?" He speaks softly, his voice lined with affection and hope.

"I'm not saying I'm gonna be around a lot." Stiles bites his lip and looks up through his lashes. "In fact, I know I won't… but I've been transferred here. I'm working out of San Francisco from here on out. I'm working with the Bureau's new department on the supernatural, and it's based in California. So I'll… I mean,  _ officially _ , I'll be living here. They put me up in a nice place at The Civic."

Jackson feels his own heartbeat jump at the implication of the words, but he doesn't respond. He simply blinks at Stiles and waits for him to say something that lets Jackson know he isn't alone in this feeling.

"I was wondering if we could-"

"Yeah." Jackson blurts out instinctively, then slaps his hand over his face in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, go on.  _ Fuck _ ."

"Well, I mean." Stiles simpers, and he comes closer to Jackson, so close that the hybrid is flooded with the familiar anxious-excited scent. "I could finish that sentence any way I want. You've already said yes."

Jackson pulls his hand from his face and shoots Stiles a tired, exasperated, fond expression.

"Whatever you ask, Stiles." Jackson whispers nervously, his words getting caught in his throat and coming out raspy and pained. "The answer is gonna be yes."

Stiles' playful expression drops suddenly and he takes the last step forward. Being slightly taller, he cradles the side of Jackson's jaw and tilts his head up for a kiss.

Their lips meet in a soft, gentle caress, nothing like what Jackson had thought their kisses would be like any of the thousands of times he'd imagined it. Stiles moans softly against Jackson's mouth and it awakens the animal inside the man, making him take control of the kiss.

He licks into Stiles' mouth and is accepted eagerly, their kiss turning sloppy and desperate as their hands grip at each other's clothing and limbs like they're fighting to get closer than they already are, fighting to never let go.

"Jax-" Stiles whispers against Jackson's sharp cheekbone once they've pulled away and the shorter man is nosing along his jaw. "God, Jax, please tell me we can try this. I wanna take you out. I want to kiss you. I want to  _ hold _ you. This is so ridiculous, but I don't think I ever actually stopped wanting you, Jackson. Not when you pushed me away, not when I was obsessed with your girlfriend, not when I thought I'd fucking  _ killed _ you with my jeep, not when I  _ dated _ your fucking girlfriend, not when I thought you were happy and settled down in London, which hurt  _ way more  _ than I expected it to…"

Stiles starts laughing almost hysterically into Jackson's hair, and the older man just holds him, kisses his neck, hugs him tight and lets them both settle into the absurdity of the situation and the insane circumstances that had brought them together after all these years.

"Stilinski." Jackson's calming, placating voice soothes him as he laughs. "Come on. You can't blame yourself. Of course you always wanted me. I'll have you know… I'm  _ everyone's _ type."

"Oh  _ fuck off _ ." Stiles groans and pulls back to capture Jackson's mouth with his own one more time. He pulls away quickly, but stays close and whispers against soft pliant lips. "Let me take you on a date tomorrow. And then maybe show you my new place?"

Jackson sucks in a quick, surprised breath and then smiles.

"I told you, Stiles." He huffs out on a laugh. "With you, the answer is always going to be  _ 'yes.' _ "


End file.
